


Sultry Sonnets

by greerby



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 22:33:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2558114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greerby/pseuds/greerby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin loves her husband. Perhaps more than she should, considering the circumstances. War beseeching death and all that. But love is so fleeting on the battlefield, and sharing these days with a man as passionate and caring as him is an offer she can't possibly turn away. </p>
<p>Some drabbles following Robin and Virion's A/S rank, and a little while after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sultry Sonnets

**Author's Note:**

> i am trash i am for shame pls ignore me 5ever

She doesn't directly interact with him for a few weeks. Not until he catches her playing chess alone in her tent, and offers to make himself useful. He smirks the whole game and beats her with ease, and suddenly he has an excuse to come and see her.

Every night at supper they cackle and drink and stuff their faces, just happy for the other's company. The others watch bewildered as their tactician links arms with the shamed archer and stumbles back to her tent, where they toss coin at one another and wager against their matches. (She loses quite a bit of allowance to his pockets, but without fail the next day there will always be some form of anonymous donation to their campaign in that same amount.)

Of course, spending that much time together always besets some sort of closeness and affection. She admits that she enjoys his presence a little more than she lets on. His eyes widen and he tells her if she wins the next match, he'll give her a small secret of his own. She giggles and accepts his offer, laying down another pair of coins onto the table.

She loses in record time, but before he ducks out of her tent, he chuckles and presses his mouth to her cheek before quickly disappearing into camp.

The start of something extremely welcome.

The next time he comes to her tent, she's ready for him with wagers of her own. Unfortunately, he is ever more prepared than her. He bests her several more times, and stares cheekily at her flushed, frustrated face, his chin resting on his clasped hands.

“Perhaps the lady would see fit to reward the victor with a kiss?”

She blinks at him, examining his expression. A cocky flirt smirks back at her. She huffs, leans over the flat surface of her chessboard, and before he can react, agrees to his terms. When she pulls back, a shocked, blushing creature is staring in his place.

“Would the gentleman care for a rematch?” She half whispers, refusing to meet his eye.  
“I think that might be an acceptable proposal.” He chuckles, carefully tucking a thick lock of hair behind her ear.

She loses yet more matches, one after the other, and at his insistence, more rewards are exchanged. Eventually his cheeks and mouth are smeared with dull lipstick, though he doesn't appear to object.

And then, by some miracle, she wins one. He blinks at her commander's place on the board, at her disbelieving grin.

“Checkmate.” She giggles happily, resting her cheek on her hand and trying to contain her excitement.  
“Then it is only fair,” he smirks. “that you ask something of me.”

She considers it. Of all the cheeky things she could request. A night in her cot, a heavy kiss before bedtime, his ration of desserts for the week.

“If you don't mind, I think I'll save it for a rainy day.” she smiles instead, and starts to tuck the pieces away.  
“There must be something you desire, fair lady.”  
“Many things, Virion. But coming from you, I'd like to take it under considerations before I make any rash decisions.”

He chuckles and lifts himself to his feet, brushing invisible specks of dust from the front of his vests.

“Well said, milady. Then I shall depart for the evening.”  
“Take care that the rest of the camp doesn't see all of that on your face. They might suspect.”  
“Might that be so awful?” he grins, and ducks out of her tent before she can think of a witty response.

 (When he proposes several games later, she feels like there's never been a question answered easier.)

\- - -

Their wedding is simple, though in the back of her mind she does wish that she could give him the extravagant event that he deserves. Still, the both of them are excited enough to finally tie the knot that neither seems to mind the absence of expensive treats or décor. The rest of the camp gathers what little extra they can manage to give and sets it all in a neat pile near her tent.

Robin borrows a lacy white nightgown to wear, though she feels utterly naked without her enormous cloak. Her beau wears his best uniform, from the days when he was still reigning Duke. He looks fantastic, and she tells him. He confesses cheekily that he's already aware, and presses his mouth to her forehead.

Libra recites a few of Naga's prayers and allows them to drink ceremonial wine. They say their vows and she gives him a thick silver ring to match the one with which he'd proposed. He kisses her before she even knows what to do with herself and it's the sweetest thing she's ever tasted. She bursts into nervous giggles, and when he looks down at her as if quizzically offended, she starts to laugh far harder than she should, before pulling him back in once more. The others clap and exchange confused glances and finally understand that perhaps the two really are soul mates.

The festivities last for hours, and everyone is particularly drunk by the time the sun starts to set. She gathers what's left of her feast and packs it away to eat later, and gulps down the rest of her ale. Virion eases up behind her and tosses her over his shoulder, chuckling when she shrieks in surprise and busts into another fit of breathless laughter.

“If you don't mind my insistence, love, I'd say it's time we retire for the night.”

She asks when he ducks into her tent if he realizes that her cot only holds one person. He feigns ignorance, but suggests that it won't be a problem, they'll simply have to sleep closer together. They wash up and she collapses face first onto the furs, before she feels his cool hands on her bare back.   
“If I may?” He says smooth and low, smirking.

“Please do.” She giggles, turning onto her side to face him.

He captures her mouth again, this time deeper, with more purpose.

“Oh, wait. I don't think I've ever...you know.” She suddenly realizes, carefully breaking away when his long fingers slip under her gown. “At least, not as far as I can remember.”

“Worry not, darling.” He chuckles, kissing her cheek. “In addition to being an amazingly talented archer, I also happen to be extremely well versed in this field. You're certainly one of the luckiest women in camp.”

She laughs, rolls lazily onto her back, and he settles comfortably in between her open knees, and demonstrates very clearly exactly how lucky she really is.

\- - -

Slowly, slowly. He shudders and a crop of goosebumps fly over his skin. She gasps and rolls her head back and happily bites her lip when his mouth dips into the crook of her neck, her fingers tangling ecstatically in his long hair. Still he goes on, moving at a painfully deliberate speed, teasing her with half-promises when she begs. She's accustomed to the way he likes to do things, slow and steady and accurate with immaculate flourish. Like the archer he is.

But too often it means that all of his effort goes into pleasing her over himself. She's sure any other woman would kill for the chance to have such a considerate lover, but she wants to see him happy above all else. He gives so much, most of which goes unnoticed by his people. She wants him to receive, for once, if only in this context.

The next night she lays him back onto the thin furs, straddling his waist and biting at his neck, pinning his wrists above his head until his chest is heaving with anticipation. She slips to her knees and settles comfortably between his thighs; flicking open the strings of his trousers and glancing up once or twice to meet his flustered gaze. Her rosebud mouth closes around him, warm and slick.

His moans are strangled and stammering, his objections and concerns lost between them. He pants and tucks a thick lock of violet hair behind her ear, pausing to shakily caress her hollowed cheeks. She smirks against him and slides deeper than he's accustomed, and he comes undone for her then and there. They both silently thank Naga that the tents have been sound-proofed.

\- - -

Their reunion is one for the history books. When Chrom whisks her home, or at least close enough to it that she can see it glimmering on the horizon, she breaks into a sprint and doesn't stop for miles. He calls after her, a bit dazed, but she only laughs heartily (and Gods, does it feel wonderful to laugh again), prompting him to try and keep up. He wonders why she doesn't ask the questions he knows she should be asking, wonders if maybe she's already aware. (She knows a lot of things she shouldn't, but he supposes that's always been the case.)

The tears start spilling over when she sees her husband's humble manor house looming and don't have any inkling to slow down. An apparently upset que of villagers have lined up outside of his front door, and though she's sure she'll feel terrible about it later, she pushes past every single one of them and practically catapults herself into his study. He leaps up from his desk and starts to reach for his bow, mistaking her for some sort of assassination attempt, when she dives over the villagers he's been speaking with and clings onto him for dear life, laughing and sobbing and babbling incoherently all at once.

Virion's response is no more dignified. He clutches her desperately and kisses every inch of her he can possibly reach, wailing inconsolably and thoroughly terrifying his houseguests.

When they finally reach a point where they have to stop or risk becoming severely dehydrated, they pause. Robin giggles while he lovingly scrubs streaks of mascara from her cheeks.

“I've missed you.”

“Since you disappeared there has not been a single moment where I haven't desperately wanted you by our side in Rosanne.”

_Our._

“Mother?”

Her precious, bouncing, no-longer-a-baby boy peeks his head out from the hall and suddenly it's away all over again. Morgan breaks into a full on sobbing fit and the three of them hold onto each other in a big, messy, wailing pyramid of emotion. 

After a long day of greeting their friends, tearful reunions, and an entire mess of celebrations, she finally finds herself alone with her family. Virion has the maids prepare an extravagant dinner for just the three of them, which is an enormous mistake because rather than rehash her two years of solitude with them, she spends much of the meal stuffing her face to make up for two years without food. Neither seems to mind much, beaming and laughing and making it very clear that they're just happy she's sitting with them.

Once Morgan is far too exhausted to continue any longer without collapsing, they put him to bed and retire themselves. Robin sighs happily and falls face down into the plush comforter, reveling in the scent of her husband's sweet perfume that lingers there. The bed settles and squeaks when he lays beside her, his eyes shut and his mouth quirked, hands clasped delicately on his chest.

His lips are pouty and blushed, just as perfect as she remembers. She shuffles closer to him and presses her nose into his shoulder, breathing deeply. He smells of honey and cinnamon. He chuckles and she wonders if he still tastes of the cream dessert they were served.

“Virion.” she whispers, her hand slipping over his. “I'm sorry.”

He blinks, turns his head towards her, his brows furrowed. “Rob-”

“I know that we jest and celebrate and laugh together about all this, but I can't imagine what it- what _I_ must have done to you.”

She sighs shakily, pulling flush against him and burying her face in his chest.

He shifts, clasping her face in his hands. She's never seen his face so intense, and for a brief moment her heart stops beating.

“My darling.” he stares, gently pressing his thumbs into her cheeks. “As much as I appreciate your concern for my well being, you must understand. I never for one moment doubted that you would come back to us.”

She chokes back a sob, throwing her arms around his neck and smashing her mouth against his. He shudders when she hooks one bare leg over the crook of his hip.

“However,” he swallows thickly, running a pale hand over the expanse of her smooth back. “That is not to say that I haven't missed you. Desperately so. Every single day I hoped might be the day that I would look upon your face again.”

“Two years.” she laughs forcibly. “Two years you've had to come to bed alone. I want nothing but to repay you, my sweet darling.”

“You will repay nothing.” he smirks, rolling her onto her back once more. “Though, if the lady demands it, I would not be adverse to making up for lost time.”

\- - -

She's with child not long after. Lissa and the other handmaids of the palace tell her a few moons in that the way she's carrying almost guarantees a baby boy. Morgan is satisfied, but they insist he stay until he's born. The other children have long since departed, to conduct further adventures or start families of their own. Cynthia is anxious to see the world, but she confesses that she never wants to leave Morgan's side. Robin smiles at her own husband and tells her she understands.

For all his confidence outside the home, her husband worries very much in private. About his country, his people, the future of Rosanne.

And now, the wellbeing of his beloved family. His unborn child. Of course, much of the country had come to accept her with open arms, but there were still a few mobs of commoners who sneered in the general direction of the family. If someone were to lash out at him through his very pregnant wife, he would be completely beside himself. To keep his panic to a minimum, she stays by his side as often as possible, nodding in agreement when he speaks to his people and squeezing his hand beneath tables to assure him that she is indeed still there.

The child is as excitable as it's father, to say the least. It moves constantly, kicking and squirming and twisting it's fists into her kidneys. Every little movement gives her hiccups, a fact that delights Virion to no end. For whatever reason, he finds the squeaking incredibly adorable. She indulges it for a while, but once they continue through to bedtime when the baby shifts into the wee hours of the morning, she has a small breakdown that spreads throughout the entire manor.

(The healers inform her that the best way to cure the affliction is more frequent intimacy, and she can practically see the wheels turning in her husband's head. He decides immediately that it's a fair enough tradeoff.)

\- - -

On the fifth of Maytime, she gives birth to her bouncing baby boy, a beautiful creature with a swirling tuft of silver hair. Virion's nearly year-long stress finally settles as soon as he holds their son in his arms, at least until the child grabs a handful of his long tresses and yanks it clean out of his head. Siobhan and Morgan laugh until they cry and decide that he is worthy of a name.

“It's our Morgan. He's wonderful.”  
“He is the image of absolute perfection. Obviously my son.”  
“Oh yes darling, quite obvious.”  
“And as lovely as his mother.”  
“I imagine that someday he might surpass even his parents in sheer excellence.”

She kisses her husband and holds her son close and everything is right with the world. Morgan, her eldest Morgan, smiles happily and admits that he's more than ready to depart. He needn't stay to watch over himself, as he has none of Noire's concerns. They hug, indulge in a few more sobbing fits. He loads his belongings onto the saddle of Cynthia's pegasus and takes off, clinging to his wife's waist.

The infant coos happily and drools down the front of Virion's cravat. They take it as the beginning of a very bittersweet adventure.


End file.
